


The Family We Keep

by fancastik



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancastik/pseuds/fancastik
Summary: "If there’s one thing that all of her weeks’ worth of preparation and research couldn’t have prepared her for, it’s the sheer size of the university."Nile isn't sure what she expected her first year of university to be like, but getting involved in a case of missing antiques with the eclectic group of international students is something she never could have predicted.Or, alternatively, The Old Guard college au that no one asked for.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 273





	The Family We Keep

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this by saying I live in America, so obviously our college setup is different from the UK's. I've researched what I can, but I know i'm sure to get a few things wrong. If you're okay with this fictionalized version of Cambridge, then feel free to read ahead!

If there’s one thing that all of her weeks’ worth of preparation and research couldn’t have prepared her for, it’s the sheer size of the university. Cambridge was more than a campus, it was its own town; spreading for blocks in every direction, stone hewed buildings and unruly meadows stretching as far as the eye could see. Nile was both impressed, and incredibly overwhelmed. Here, away from the high rises of Chicago, she was faced with the reality that she was actually attending a school not just miles away from home, but in an entirely new country. The thought was enough to leave her rooted to the spot. 

Jay and Dizzy would be getting ready to head off to bootcamp by now. Up until a few months ago, Nile had thought she would be going right along with them. They’d made plans, spent hours discussing them within their shared group chat, and she’d thought they’d been practically set in stone. With the exception of Cambridge, she’d only applied to a few other schools, all of them within the states, and none of them truly appealing to her. The marines were the correct choice, a way to honor her father’s memory, at least that’s what she’d thought. Then, the letter had come. Full ride scholarship, including housing, and all Nile had to do was pay for the airplane ticket. 

“I’m not going,” she’d told her mother, with the unwavering conviction that only stubborn teenagers can possess. 

“What are you talking about?” had come her mother’s quick reply, “of course you’re going. Why wouldn’t you?” 

Nile hadn’t been able to answer that, at least not in any sure sort of way. The truth was, there hadn’t really been many reasons _not_ to accept the offer. She had a whole laundry list of things in her head, that had made sense at the time, but held little weight now. Unable to argue back, her determination wavering, Nile had eventually given in when, two months before graduation, her mom had sat down to talk to her again. 

“You have to do what _you_ want to do, Nile. It’s your life, no one else’s, live it,” she’d said, sitting on the foot of Nile’s bed and looking at her with an understanding sympathy. Through the years, they’d navigated through their grief together. The hole left within her family from her father’s death was a large one, but not so large that her mother wasn’t able to reach her from across it. It had been there, sitting in the warm lamplit glow of her bedroom, that she’d looked at her mom and understood. The choice was Nile’s, no matter what it was, but she had to make it. 

In the end, it was Dizzy and Jay she ended up letting down, not herself. At least not yet. 

Clare was one of the older college’s at Cambridge, second only to Peterhouse. She’d chosen the college based on a cursory interest, and because of the allure that the campus held. In pictures there had been a river, with a classical style bridge, and trees lined along the riverbank. It had looked the most picturesque of all the campuses, with a sort of artistic quality that drew her to it. Now that she was here, standing before the grey wash brick building of Memorial court, that beauty was only dimmed by the sudden reality of it all. Like she’d stepped into a painting and found that the world within was more than just brushstrokes and inspiration. 

She found new things to catch her eye. The trees had gone a fiery orange in the chill of October air, feebly clinging to their branches. They stood out in sharp contrast against the grey backdrop of the building. The grass lawn that spread out before her was still a shock of green, manicured and kept in the ordered fashion she’d been expecting. Even the shrubbery itself obeyed the unwritten rules, keeping within the confines of their flower beds and just as alive as the grass was. She studied all of these things as she started up the gravel lined path to the front door of Memorial, suitcase rumbling behind in her wake. 

Inside was no less grand than out. The space had clearly been remodeled, but still retained some of its classic charm, like the wooden floorboards that creaked beneath her feet as she made her way to a small table set up in the foyer. There were two students seated there, a girl with big wire framed glasses, and a welcoming smile, and a boy who was beginning to look bored. 

“Name?” The boy asked as she approached. 

“Um. Nile Freeman?” 

“1st year?” 

“Yes.” 

He flipped through a stack of papers before him, eventually finding the one he was looking for and pulling it out. “History of art, huh?” 

The subject that Nile had chosen to study, spurred by the many hours she and her mom had spent watching Antiques Roadshow together; she’d taken a specific interest in 19th century French art. She also already knew, from her perusal of the Cambridge and Clare websites, that not many art history students chose to live here, usually only one to two a semester, but that had only made her want to choose it more. 

She nodded and the boy arched an amused eyebrow, “Not many of you guys around here. What was the name of that last guy?” He turned his attention to the girl who smiled brightly. 

“Joe?” she chirped, “I work with his boyfriend at the library. He’s nice!” 

“Yeah. That’s him,” along with the paperwork the boy had dug out a small manila envelope that had Nile’s name stamped across the front, and now held both out to her, “You’re on the second floor, fourth hall. Go up the staircase and take a right.” 

Nile thanked the both of them, took the paperwork, and left. The girl’s smile was beginning to border on unnerving. It was as if she’d been wearing it for too long and it had gotten permanently stuck, tight at the corners. The air was chillier downstairs as well, since the front door had been propped open, letting in the cold from outside. 

Finding her room was fairly easy, the building itself was square shaped, with only three floors, and the boy’s directions were easy to follow. Once inside she was greeted with a bed, a desk, and a plush chair that was tucked in the corner by the window. It was simple, straightforward, what she’d been expecting from the photos she’d seen online. Perhaps for the first time since getting off the plane, she felt her heartbeat settle. This small space, for the time being, was hers. It was the first place she’d been today that felt relatively familiar. Memorial was one of the oldest buildings at Cambridge, and from the outside it looked it. But inside had been updated throughout the years, which meant all of the furniture was new and the hardwood flooring in the foyer had given way to carpet. Here, it didn’t feel all that different to her room back in Chicago. Only the world outside her window had changed. The room faced the courtyard, where a towering tree had been planted in the center, it’s leaves the same fiery orange she’d been marveling at earlier. 

‘ _This is really happening_ ,’ she thought, as she put her suitcase down on her bed and began to unpack, ‘ _I’m really here_.’ 

* * *

The knock on her door comes just as she’s finishing put her clothes away. It’s three quick raps against the wood, barely audible over the sound of the music Nile has playing from her phone. She’s expecting it to be someone asking her to turn the volume down, forgetting for a moment that she’s moved in earlier than everyone else because of her international status, and so the hall was practically empty. When she opens the door, she’s startled to find the woman before her; tall, dressed in black jeans and a matching tank top, her stance severe.  


“You Nile?” she asks, leaning against the door frame and brushing a strand of her short-cropped hair out of her face.  


“Yes?”  


“Cool, I’m Andy,” she offers Nile her hand, her wrist adorned with a cluster of leather bracelets, “I’m your mentor.”  


She vaguely remembers something from her research into the school mentioning student mentors. The UK equivalent of resident assistants, they’re meant to help her adjust to life at Cambridge. She hadn’t thought they’d come in the form of this girl though, all harsh lines and a steely gaze.  


Hesitantly, she shakes Andy’s hand, “Oh. Okay. Hi.”  


Andy takes a quick look behind Nile, peeking into her sparsely decorated room. “Sorry. I was supposed to meet you earlier, but I got caught up with-… some family stuff. But it looks like you figured everything out?”  


Her research had also told her mentor was supposed to meet her as soon as she arrived at campus, some even going as far as meeting their residents at the airport. Consumed within her own nerves, she’d completely forgotten about Andy’s existence, or the role she was meant to provide.  


“Yeah, I did,” she replied. Maybe it should have bothered her more that Andy hadn’t been there to do her job, but Nile found it hard to care when it was already in the past.  


“Good. Well, I’m down the hall, first room to the right of the staircase. If you need anything, feel free to ask.”  


Nile nodded, “Okay. Thanks.”  


There was an awkward pause between them, a moment where Andy seemed to consider saying more, but she decided against it. “No problem.”  


As Andy turned on her heel to leave, her phone chimed, echoing loudly in the narrow hallway. Nile watches as she pulls it from her back pocket, looks at the screen, and scowls. A sigh escapes her, weighted with something that Nile doesn’t have the insight to read.  


“Actually. Do you have dinner plans?”  


Nile furrows her eyebrows, “No? Not really.”  


Andy’s still looking down at her phone when another text comes in, this one causing her scowl to deepen, before she takes a resigned breath and it fades back into the expression she’d been wearing before.  


“Have you ever had Maghrebi food?”  


Nile can’t say she has, she’s not even really sure what it is. “No.”  


“Would you like to?” It’s spoken almost like a threat, but Nile’s not sure if that’s just because of Andy’s intimidating demeanor or because it might actually be one.  


“Um, I don’t know. I have to finish unpacking...,” the part of her that’s very aware of how much of a stranger Andy still is, is screaming at her to turn down the invitation. But she hasn’t eaten all day, and her stomach rumbles at the thought of free food. Besides, Andy _was_ meant to help her adjust to life on campus, maybe this was just her hands-on approach. Maybe this was just her trying to make up for not being there for Nile earlier.  


“Where would we go?”  


“My friends have an apartment across campus. Joe makes the best tajine you’ll ever eat”  


Not just a free meal, but a _homecooked_ one as well. Nile had been fully prepared for most of her time here to be spent at dining halls, living off of food that lacked any sort of real flavor. Now Andy was standing here and offering her an out, or at least a reprieve from the meals of her future. The name Joe didn’t slip past her mind either, the same one that she’d been told earlier by the kids’ downstairs. She couldn’t be sure that it would be the same person, but if it was, she could meet someone who was studying the same thing as her.  


She debated her choices for a moment, Andy standing before her and watching with a raised eyebrow. When her stomach growled again, she gave up on trying to apply logic to the situation.  


“Okay. Sure. Just let me grab my jacket.”

* * *

Nicky and Joe are third years. They live off campus at an apartment complex that’s the only modern building on the block, so new that some of the construction equipment hasn’t even been moved yet. Nile has only a moment to be impressed, before she’s being welcomed into a home that smells so strongly of spices it makes her mouth water. Cumin, ginger, and what she thinks may be an undercurrent of cinnamon have filled the open space of the apartment with an aroma that’s only short of heavenly.  


Andy turns back to look at her as they enter, smirking in a way that seems to say, ‘ _I told you so_.’ She’s still not entirely sure if these strangers have completely good intentions, but if she dies after having gotten to eat the meal that smells this good, then she doesn’t think she’d mind that much.  


The man who opens the door for them is a little taller than Andy, sandy-haired, and with grey eyes that immediately light up the moment he sees them. Nile watches as he pulls Andy in for a hug. The almost gentle way he puts his arms around her, and closes his eyes as she returns the contact, speaks to a level of familiarity that had been built up over years.  


Andy places a hand on the back of his neck, cradling almost, “Nicky, how was your break?”  


He pulls away from her, a small smile spread across his features, and shrugs, “It was good. Though I don’t think we can go back to that hotel.”  


Andy laughed. Nile had only just met her, but she was startled to hear such a light sound come from her. Everything about Andy’s demeanor so far had struck her as all sharp edges. The laugh forced her to do a reassessment of sorts.  


Nicky looked past her then, eyes falling on Nile, but the expression on his face never changed. If anything, the smile only widened.  


“You must be Nile,” he said, voice soft with an accent she couldn’t quite place, as he stepped around Andy and held up his hand, “I’m Nicky.”  


Maybe it was the smell of the food or the warmth that emanated from the apartment, but one of the two made the man before her appear as less of a stranger and more like someone she could trust. He had a way of greeting her that made it seem as if they’d known each other for hundreds of years.  


Shaking his outstretched hand, she replied, “Nice to meet you. This place is beautiful by the way.”  


They were still standing in the entryway, but it was an open space, with the living room to her right and the kitchen to her left. Somehow, even though it was a new building, they’d made the space seem as old as the rest of Cambridge. There were antiques mixed in with Ikea furniture, paintings on the walls that looked as if they belonged in a museum, and books piled in almost every corner, spines cracked and covers faded.  


From the kitchen came another voice, “Glad _you_ think so.” She turned to find a man bent over the stove, messing with some sort of pottery. It looked like a clay vase, but cut in half, the bottom housing the amazing smelling food, and the top acting as a sort of lid. When he seemed satisfied with how the top was resting, he looked up from the stove and grinned. “Our parents are convinced we’re hoarders.”  


She looked around the space again, “I would say more like collectors.” She’d watched enough Antiques Roadshow with her mom to know the difference between the two.  


The man’s grin widened. By process of elimination she figured this must be the infamous Joe. His hair was a mess of dark curls, and he had a beard that made him look like one of the many jocks from Nile’s high school, though lacking any sort of the malice they possessed. His smile was just as welcoming as Nicky’s was, if not more so.  


“Thank you! That’s what I said!” he turned to Nicky, motioning at Nile as he did, “she gets it!”  


Nicky shook his head in an amused way, “I think we are walking a very fine line.” Nile couldn’t argue with him there, it was a lot of stuff to be crammed into one space. The man waved Nicky off, then came to greet Nile, confirming her suspicions when he said his name was Joe.  


After he’d shook her hand, sure and steady, he’d turned his attention to Andy and asked, “Where’s Booker?”  


Andy’s features darkened again, “He’s on his way... I hope.”  


Nicky and Joe looked at one another, sharing a similar solemn expression. Nile’s curiosity got the best of her as she asked, “Who’s Booker?” It was hard to imagine that that could be someone’s name, even harder to picture the person to whom the name could belong.  


Joe looked between Nicky and Andy, then finally back to her. The open grin had fallen from his face.  


“Oh, you’ll see,” he said. Unsurprisingly, his tone didn’t instill confidence in Nile that this was a man she actually _wanted_ to meet. Maybe the free food wouldn’t be worth it after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any notes would be appreciated, and you can find me at @nico-di-genova on tumblr for more old guard content!


End file.
